Cinnamon Baby
by Gleamblossom
Summary: In which Alesan comes of age with some help from the dragonborn.


"Alesan, sweetie, come sit by momma."

My nine year old looks up from the stewpot. I smile, as I always do, at the sight of his cinnamon-brown face sprinkled with freckles. He flashes a set of perfect white teeth at me. They are so bright in his dark face.

Without commenting, he leaves the hearth and walks over to me. I wrap my arms around his ribs and slide him onto my lap. He rests his head against my shoulder, breathes in deeply, and sighs. My rocking chair lulls us forward and backward.

I watch his eyelashes flutter as I stroke his hair. After a few moments I press several dry little kisses on his cheek. His smile widens, and he reaches up to stroke my neck. He pinches my collarbone between his fingers and sucks his thumb with his free hand. He has done this since I first brought him here as a toddler.

"You wandered awfully far from the trail yesterday."

Alesan pulls his thumb out of his mouth, but does not open his eyes. "Aw Momma. It was just a little ways."

"Remember what I said. You mustn't…"

"See anyone or be seen by anyone. I know."

"It's better with just the two of us," I remind him. "You'll always be safe."

He snuggles up to me and buries his face in my neck. "Momma?"

"Yes, love?"

"I'm too hot again."

I kiss the top of his head. It is a little warm. "You want to be bare?"

"Uh huh."

He wiggles down from my lap and lifts his arms. I pull his shirt over his head. It releases the warm, sweet smell of his skin. The air raises goosebumps on arms and his little nipples stand out.

"You sure you're too warm?" I say.

"Uh huh," he says again and steps out of his trousers and underpants. He kicks his shoes off and climbs onto my lap again, smiling contentedly.

I rub his back gently. My baby's skin is so very smooth and brown. I adore the freckles on his shoulders, which are the product of six summers of running "bare" in the woods surrounding our tiny house in the forests of Falkreath.

We rock away the afternoon. Alesan sleeps for an hour or so, and as he sleeps he murmurs and clutches at my neck and hair. I smile. Even in sleep he is determined to hang onto me. It has been several weeks since I've been home.

When he wakes up, Alesan gazes up at me and his bottomless black eyes are full. He smiles and reaches up to touch my cheek. There is a pink line on his chin from a crease in my dress. I touch it with my fingertip, and so does he.

He frowns sleepily and crumples my skirt in his fist. "Don't like it, Momma," he fusses.

I smile lightly. "Okay. Climb down."

I stand and undo the buttons at the base of my neck and pull my arms out of the sleeves of my gown. It drops to the floor, and I step out of it and sit back down in the rocking chair. Alesan climbs back into my lap with a look of relief on his face. There is a sheen of sweat on his forehead. Still, he snuggles into my ribs, nuzzling my breasts with his cheek. He reaches up to take the left one in his hand. His fingers move in little circles around my nipple, tracing the little bumps he knows so well. He takes my nipple in his mouth and suckles, although I don't have any milk for him and never have. But he likes to suckle. It has comforted him since he was a toddler. I often wonder if his real mother breastfed him into his second year. I remember my wee, brown lad and his tiny, warm mouth on my barren teat and smile.

We rock back and forth as the evening shadows fall. Eventually I decide that it's time to get him ready for bed. "Start bringing in water from the well," I tell Alesan. "It's bath time."

Alesan gets the pail and skips outside. I stir the fire, add a few more logs, and get out the kettle. Then I retrieve the washtub from its place under the stairs and set it before the fireplace.

After Alesan has made several trips back and forth and the kettle has been filled and refilled, the tub is full of warm water. I dip my hand in it. It doesn't feel too hot on my wrist, so I give Alesan the all clear and he hops in, smiling happily.

I go the cupboard and retrieve the scented bath soaps, which I purchased in Solitude last spring.

"Special soap?" Alesan chirps, his smile widening. "Why, Mama?"

"Tonight's a special night," I reply. "Mama's staying home tomorrow."

"Really?"

I nod and return with the soap in hand. Alesan smiles even wider and places a small, wet hand on my arm. "Can I sleep in your bed tonight then, Mama?"

I smile. "I suppose so. But no tossing and turning."

"Okay." He leans out of the tub and nuzzles my breasts with his cheek.

I pour some soap into the water, then swish it rapidly back and forth, splashing all over myself and Alesan. Alesan giggles and assists me; soon the water is covered in a thin layer of bubbles.

"You're all wet, Mama," Alesan giggles, patting my arm. His hand makes a sharp smacking sound on my wet skin.

"Well whose fault is that?" I say, tickling his sides. He shrieks with laughter and makes an attempt at tickling me back, but his arms aren't long enough to reach my sides and he leans too far forward and slips. Before I can catch him, he hits his head on the rim of the tub.

"Oh, baby," I croon, placing my hands under his armpits and hoisting him up out of the water.

He's already got a red patch on his forehead. As I examine it, his gallantry breaks and he begins to wail. I hold him close and he presses his hot, wet face against my collarbone.

After a moment of holding him awkwardly over the edge of the tub, I let go of him and stand up. He wails even louder, reaching for me.

And so I climb over the edge of the tub and sit down behind him. The tub is so small that the two of us can barely fit, and as I ease myself into the water, much of it rushes over the sides and onto the floor.

Surprised, Alesan stops crying for a moment. He scoots forward helpfully. I sit down with my legs on either side of him. He leans back and rests his head on my belly for a moment, whimpering. Then he flips over and wraps his little arms around my waist in order to reach my breast.

His whimpers subside as he sucks my teat, his little fingers pinching at my collarbone. I kiss the top of his head and stroke his warm, wet back.

After a while he turns his head to the side. "Mama, I'm not sleepy right now," he murmurs.

I can't help but smile. "Oh?"

"Yeah. So maybe you should make me sleepy like when I was sick, so I can sleep, because it's bedtime after bath time, you said."

Trying not to laugh at his rationale, I pretend to deliberate. "Well… alright. Stand up, baby."

Alesan eases himself off of my belly and stands up. Standing there in the dim, flickering light of the fire, his little brown body looks browner than ever. I smile and run my hands over his freckled shoulders and arms.

"You promise you'll go to sleep?" I say, trying to sound stern.

He nods. A shiver goes through him as I run my hand down his tummy.

To my surprise, his nubby little penis is already hard. I stroke it gently, with one finger at first, and then two. It grows longer in the firelight.

Alesan closes his eyes and holds onto my arm with one hand. He seems to be more focused than usual; he is completely still, aside from his fingers, which are curling and uncurling.

As I stroke him, he begins to move his hips. Side to side at first, but then backward and forward. Curiously, I wrap my hand around his little penis and squeeze. His eyes pop open, as though in surprise, and he begins to thrust more aggressively. I stop moving my hand, allowing him to control the stimulation for the first time. Surveying him proudly, I remove my other hand from his buttock, allowing him to move more freely.

When did my baby get so grown up? I marvel at the strength of his his rapid little thrusts, as well as his initiative.

Suddenly he stops. He stands completely still with wide eyes and a puzzled frown.

"What's the matter, baby?"

Alesan looks thoughtful. His eyebrows pull together and he continues to frown. "I want…" he says slowly, then scratches his ear. "I want to… lay down."

"Alright," I say gently, though I am surprised that he doesn't seem to want to finish this time.

Alesan lies down on my belly again and rests his head on my breast. He wears the same puzzled frown, and I wonder what he is thinking.

He begins to hump me, very softly at first. I'm so surprised that I don't move; I simply lie there, watching him. His little penis is hard against my lower abdomen. Eventually I reach up and begin to stroke his damp back, though he doesn't seem to notice, so laser-like is his focus.

_It's time_, I think to myself. Tenderly, I take hold of his hips and draw him down my belly. He looks up at me in surprise, but I make no response except to lift him upward, so that the tip of his penis is poised above the entrance of my vagina.

Slowly, I guide his hips downward and feel his tiny hardness penetrate me. His eyes grow large, and his mouth falls slack. As soon as he's in all the way, his tiny body sags against mine. He looks nothing short of bewildered.

"Mama," he says, his voice higher than usual.

I stroke his cheek. "It's okay, baby," I croon.

He nods once, as if to himself, and buries his head in my navel. After a moment, he gives a very small thrust that is more like a jerk.

He looks up again, eyes wide. An expression of wonder spreads across his face, and he thrusts once, twice, a third time. He adjusts himself so that his butt rests on the bottom of the tub, and gives his hardest thrust yet.

An involuntary gasp passes through my lips. Alesan looks up at me in surprise; I stroke his face reassuringly. He thrusts again, this time watching for a reaction from me.

I cannot help but exhale sharply. Apparently the tip of his little penis is positioned right against my g-spot. He thrusts again, and I feel my vagina contract with unexpected pleasure.

After a few more experimental thrusts, Alesan begins to move in earnest, burying his face in my belly, his breath coming in quick little gasps. It feels incredible—more so than I could ever have imagined, this little man fucking me with such energy, such enthusiasm. The little whimpering noises that occasionally escape him make me want to whimper too.

He clutches at my waist, and suddenly he is thrusting so rapidly that my toes curl; I gasp, and all at once the pleasure is too much and it bursts forth, sending sweet, hot tendrils down my legs and up my spine. I whine and clutch the edges of the tub; I can feel my vagina clenching down on him—writhing in ecstasy.

Suddenly he looks up as if in surprise and a deep shudder courses through him. I feel his hotness and wetness inside my pulsating vagina, and I cannot help but give a little moan of pleasure at the same moment that he does.

He pulls out of me, drags himself back onto my breast, and lies there, panting. I hold him for a long moment, not really thinking—just breathing.

"Mama?" Alesan sighs.

"Mmm?"

"I'm sleepy now."

I smile. "Okay. Let's go to bed."

I gather him in my arms, stand up, and grab the towel on the mantle. Once it is wrapped securely around us, I step out of the tub and carry him upstairs.

Once in my bedroom, I set Alesan on the bed and dab him dry with the towel. He is nodding off already, clearly fighting to keep his eyes open. I dry myself off, then climb into bed and pull him under the covers with me.

"Mmm," he sighs, snuggling up to me and nuzzling my neck.

Smiling, I stroke his cheek with one finger. My sweet little boy, all grown up, it would seem.

I kiss him on the forehead, tenderly, so as not to aggravate the little bump that is already growing there. "Night night Alesan. Mama loves you."

"Love… you… Mama…" Alesan sighs. His hold on me tightens momentarily, then slackens as sleep claims him fully.

He will always be mine; I will make sure of it. "Sweet dreams, baby love," I murmur, and blow out the candle.


End file.
